No longer
Room for hatred
The rabies is silenced
The signs in the darkness
Crumble with unrest
That is when the man dressed in wrath
Feels only
The despair
No longer
Room for hatred
The rabies is silenced
The signs in the darkness
Crumble with unrest
That is when the man dressed in wrath
Feels only
The despair
THE ABDUCTION OF THE SABINE WOMEN
Long ago already in the canvas of blood
a sun comes out for Romulus
While the other dons in golden robes
the shadows on the faces of the Sabine women
Among flowers, abducted on a holy day.
„Invite them for Neptunalia”
Neptune said
And shook
The sea foam of his feet.
The shadow trusts everything of the light
.
The Sabine women emptied
The spiced sea wines
With the blessing of Poseidon
Rings the laughter of the villain – god
A herd of horses swarms at them
The tore the veil of the Sabine brides
in Latium
О, bride, what dreamt you
in the night of holy rape?
Decorated necropolis
And love on the altar
The miserable concede to everything
The silver
has its wisdom.
Brandy for the tzars
Who brought gifts
Should the glow of all the bitter things
spoil the game?
Like Prus on the battle field,
Tarpeia storms the Rome
„To war! I care!
for
Too early peace on
tongue was born.”
New century to the womb
New emperor on the throne
Force creates new herds
History is giving birth
There will be time for me to tell you everything
We quail, not live.
We dance on rugs of fern
In rhythm of the certainly dead
Beware the tear of the lunatic and bridges with no fences
Victims and solitude of the prayer
Patting on the shoulder
And emptiness in which the counselors die
Beware
Do not be found again
We quail
In the meantime we do not live
RESPECT FOR THE CITIZENS OF CALAIS
Bury in non consecrated ground
The denizens of Calais
An ugly message clenches you
Have you whipped your thighs
And with willow sticks?
Mourning woman!
Do not blaspheme blues.
Crusaders of nightmares
Dipped in self-love
Have sculpted us
With permanent feeling on repugnance.
Your blood pressure is normal and stabel. Don’t need to worry about it. Everything is under control. EVERYTHING! – the doctor suddenly jumps onto the patient and grabs his neck – Did you understand me!!!???
image found here
5.
Mystics listen to her
Cynics vomit her
Midwives truth-birth her
And since always
Welcome her on hands
That insidious trash
To fill their pitchers
With her feces.
Born from the spirit of pride
From the spleen of law
From the blood of forefathers
From the womb of lies
From seventy seven
Forgiveness
The fools loved her
Saints like a knick – knack
Showed her on the fair
Liars about her
Sexually fantasized
Ecce veritas
Spends her life next to Dionysius,
Bloodless turkey cocks and donkeys
Smell her sacred beak.
Crowned with laurels
Permeated with boredom
In the tasteful asylum
And she sings in blood
To dampened strings
While watching her reflection
In the lavatory of Hades
Remembers
Progenitrix
Now already an aging whore
Arose from the dream
To maintain the dream.
12.
Hunchbacks
With a cloud on their back
Butcher clowns
Villains
Regana’s daughters
Who hate my day
And all my mornings
Born from the wound
Of glistening narcissuses
Litter of Lucrecia
You exchanged venoms
Compressed into pitchers
In grinds sweetly
To stain the knife
With ancient cause
It is the artist osculating
He butchered the night
Of silence
And hush
But I will further hear
The eternal echo of my death.
13.
in the hour of celebrated departure
the warriors slumbered.
They breathe out under banners
And bloom in the hollow.
Flowers separate them.
Or are those
Intersected roads,
Nemesis,
Time fell asleep
In ambiguities.
With wincing voids and dismayed mornings
The leisured stones ring.
You gnash…
Does Fire not yearn to burn the garden
To transfuse your body into light
Does rain not hurry to sodden the sky
Or oceans? Do they not strive to find
The galleys of ANCESTOR wrath
With yearn to sail it around by violence?
All of them yearn
Your delicate wishes
Your shadow to please.
A joyful play
23
I squint through the grid
Sweeping
Are the murmurs of childhood
Symbols of intimacy
And dreams
One by one
One by one
And time became
Time on the other side of the wall
And of life behind us
I – PROPHET
I – Prophet!
I wade onto the devils blasphemy
Chiseled inside
The womb of the Sphinx
Where dead Oedipus
Murders father-Chronos
Tied to the flute of Pan
from which the
(un)maker Logos
does not reach.
I – Prophet!
Mock the cross
And the Chosen one’s
Beaten ribs
His saint-peter-esque
Descendents of the new
Tower of Babylon that quarters
Unborn children.
I – Prophet!
I urinate into Lethe
Scattered in the heads
Of Pandora’s bastards
I kiss the wound of Caesar
As predicted by Genesis.